


Just Another Day at the Office

by misura



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Community: smallfandomfest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-04
Updated: 2010-07-04
Packaged: 2017-11-23 19:35:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/625789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"They were nice paintings, Neal," Peter says.</i>
</p>
<p><i>Neal rather thought so, too. "They weren't </i>your<i> paintings, Peter. I showed them to you to look at them, not to </i>steal<i> them."</i> (reversed roles!AU)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Another Day at the Office

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Peter/Neal, Peter's the charming conman (AU)_

Neal doesn't remember the first time - or so he tells himself. It _happened_ ; nobody saw them (at least, nobody's stepped up to say Neal's been getting up, close and personal with a guy he's supposed to try to be putting behind bars) and it was far better than any first time has a right to be, in Neal's opinion, because that kind of good simply _does not happen_ in real life.

Of course, the kind of good that doesn't happen in real life is kind of Peter's specialty.

 

"I can't take you anywhere, can I?" Neal toys with a pen that's somehow escaped Mozzie's crusade to create the perfect paperless office. It's half past eight on a Monday morning, the coffee machine is broken (again) and he's just found out his kind-of boyfriend has stolen about a quarter of a million's worth of paintings. He's had worse mornings, he's sure - he simply can't remember any of them right now, what with there being no coffee available. 

If he complains to Alex about it, she'll probably tell him he's drinking too much of the stuff anyway, if his higher brain functions depend on it. She doesn't really get his problem with Mondays either - and she doesn't know about Peter, of course, or at least not about the part that really bothers Neal.

"They were nice paintings, Neal," Peter says.

Neal rather thought so, too. "They weren't _your_ paintings, Peter. I showed them to you to look at them, not to _steal_ them." He showed them to Peter because normal people in love go on things like dates, and because he wants Peter to learn to truly appreciate art as something that's, well, _art_.

Peter's definition of art is probably something along the lines of 'things that stupid people pay a lot of money for'. Which, okay, Neal can see where Peter might have gotten that idea in some cases, only that's not all there is to the matter. There's real art, too. It's not all the same.

"I don't think Mr Janislav deserved owning them."

Neal takes a deep breath. "I don't think that's your call, Peter."

"He hadn't even taken out any insurance on them." Peter sounds cheerful, relaxed. "Careless, really."

Neal doesn't ask how Peter knows that. "So you're saying this is something personal between you and Janislav? You could have mentioned that on Friday. We could have gone somewhere else."

"I didn't know him before Friday," Peter says. Neal takes another deep breath. "In fact, I only met him on Saturday. Tell me, Neal, did you know Diana's not really a lesbian? In fact, there's no such thing as 'lesbians' at all - there's just women who need a man to - what was that phrase again? Set them straight? He put it a little less politely, of course."

"Does Diana know she needs you to defend her honor?"

Peter pretends not to have heard that question. "I know the two of you have got similar taste in art, so I thought: well, why not? Honestly, Neal, we were just going to _look_."

"At the paintings," Neal says, for clarification.

"Mostly at the paintings," Peter allows. "Then, after, we go for a drink, not bothering anyone when out of the blue this drunken idiot shows up and starts pawing at Diana. She keeps it cool, tells him she's not interested and he spouts all this nonsense about how she's just a confused little girl."

"She hit him." Neal likes Diana. He'd like her more if she didn't spend so much time with Peter, getting dragged into complicity, but nobody's perfect.

"She was going to hit him, only I convinced her not to do it, that he wasn't worth it." Peter sounds like he expects Neal to pat him on the back for that.

"He wasn't worth hitting, but he was worth stealing from?"

"Everybody's worth stealing from, Neal. So, I picked his pocket to find out his name." Peter says it like it's the most natural thing in the world to steal someone's wallet to find out their name. "Imagine my surprise when I found out he owned the gallery where you and I had spent such a pleasant evening."

Neal knows there used to be a time when the only place he'd consider having sex involved a bed. Nowadays, it only seems to require Peter, looking at him in a certain kind of way that says he's thinking about Neal being naked, and that he's already checked for security cameras.

"Let's focus on the matter at hand. You stole those paintings."

"There wasn't time to make forgeries," Peter says. "It's mental conditioning, you know? He badmouths a fine woman, and the next day something bad happens to him. So now maybe next time a woman tells him to back off, he'll listen and keep his narrow-minded opinion to himself."

"I don't think that's really going to work," Neal says, even though he knows that's not the point.

"Don't tell me you're feeling guilty over this, Neal."

Neal doesn't, not really, but he feels like he should. His taking Peter to that particular gallery has definitely been the cause leading to the eventual effect of the paintings being stolen. "I am." He makes it sound like a reluctant confession.

Peter remains silent for a good few seconds after that. "Fine," he says at last.

"What do you me- " Neal starts, when he hears a click to indicate Peter has hung up on him.

 

"Trade you a cup of coffee for something to write and a piece of paper?" Kate asks. Her tone informs Neal she's not holding her breath, but is asking anyway, just in case. "Computers are all good and well, but I just can't _think_ without writing stuff down."

Neal smiles at her. "Well, I saved a pen, but I'm afraid Mozzie got to my notebook."

"My hero," Kate says, accepting the pen. Neal knows where Mozzie keeps his 'confiscated office supplies', and thanks to Peter, he also knows a good deal more about the fine art of lock-picking than he used to. He can get another pen.

"So, do I get half a cup of coffee now?" Neal asks hopefully.

Kate chuckles. "Since you asked so nicely, I guess I'll get you a whole one. You're probably going to need it for this case."

"Thank you," Neal says, "and _thank_ you for the implication I couldn't solve this one in my sleep."

"Any time, Caffrey." She puts the pen down on her desk and grabs her bag. "No milk, no sugar - oh, and you like decaf, right?"

"You know me so well."

"Not half as well as I'd like, but what's a girl to do?"

It's an old joke between them, a bit of harmless flirting, like a dance.

 

Sometimes, Neal suspects Mozzie isn't quite like the rest of mankind. Days can pass in the office when he doesn't so much as glimpse the man, but make the mistake of leaving a pen or writing block in the open and in walks Mozzie, self-appointed guardian of the Paperless Office Policy.

"Heard you got an interesting new case." Kate's pen vanishes into Mozzie's pockets before Neal can come up with any kind of plan or distraction.

"Interesting is a rather relative term, don't you think?" Neal says. "Oh, and the coffee machine is broken again. Do you think you could take a look at it?"

Mozzie looks down his nose at him (or _up_ his nose, really). "I fix computers, not coffee machines."

Neal nods, putting an expression of understanding and sympathy on his face. "Of course. Not your specialty, eh? I'll ask someone else."

"Did I say I _couldn't_ fix it?" Mozzie is already moving towards the coffee machine, so Neal swallows whatever sarcastic reply he might have made to that. "Machines are machines. Takes an idiot to get them broken; takes a genius to fix them."

"Lucky for me you dropped by," Neal says.

Mozzie mutters something and starts pulling various tools out of his pockets. "So, how's your love affair with Burke going?"

Neal chuckles, a little too late to be entirely convincing, he thinks, but Mozzie's less likely to notice something like that than Kate or Alex.

 

The thing about Peter is: he hasn't got style. The only thing worse than his suits are his ties, and the only thing worse than his ties are his pick-up lines.

Neal is almost ( _almost_ ) convinced it's not an act, either. Most con men he's met and observed and talked to make him feel like punching them in the face until they stop smiling at him like they could be his best friend if only he'd give them half a chance. They've got charm, sure, but it's a fake, empty kind of charm. They have tells, some big, some little. Peter's the only one who comes across as genuine.

It's part of what makes him such a good con man, probably.

Peter doesn't _look_ like the guy who makes a living stealing from other people by telling them lies; he looks like that nice guy who bumps into you at the supermarket and then insists on helping carry your groceries to your car to make up for it. (It took Neal two years to work out why Peter did that, and even then, he only found out because he _asked_.)

When Peter tells people he can make them rich, he's a little embarrassed about it. He's not so very interested in money himself (he'll say); he just heard about this opportunity, and well, it seemed too good not to pass it on to _someone_. (People will look at his suits and conclude that indeed, Peter does not look like a rich man.)

 

"I've got the Janislav case," Neal tells Peter over dinner.

Peter nods, swallows, clears his throat. "Want a hint? It was me."

Just because Peter doesn't act all slick all the time doesn't mean Neal never wants to hit him. "I got that the first time you told me." Neither of them has brought up the ending of their phone conversation thus far. Neal isn't sure why he's bringing it up now, except that perhaps it's because he _has_ to.

He can't pretend it doesn't bother him. Or rather: he could, but he'd keep thinking about it.

"So tell them it was me," Peter says. "What's the problem?"

Neal's not going to arrest Peter. Not unless he's got no other choice, because Peter's pulled something even Neal can't ignore - like leaving too clear evidence at the scene of the crime. Peter, in return, has promised not to touch Neal's bank-accounts, wallet or to leave him stuck with the bill for anything he didn't offer to pay for first. It's not a perfect arrangement. Neal didn't think it was going to last longer than a few months, let alone a few _years_.

"I want to take you to places I like." Most people do the whole dating thing _before_ having sex and making commitments, but Neal supposes he and Peter hardly have any kind of usual relationship. "I want to show you things I like, and not worry about you stealing them."

Peter groans as he reaches for his glass of wine. "One time, Neal."

"So you're saying it won't happen again?" Neal tries to look stern, like he's firmly putting his foot down about this.

"Next time I want to get you something nice, I'll get flowers. I'll even save the receipt, so you can see I paid for them." Peter makes a face. Several ways of getting a receipt for something you didn't, in fact, pay for pop into Neal's head before he actually realizes what Peter's just told him.

"You ... _where_?"

"Your bedroom," Peter says. "Where else?"

 

Alex's voice is very dry as she congratulates him on getting the paintings back - dry enough, in fact, to make Neal a little nervous, but he's pretty sure she would say something if she actually _knew_ just how he'd gotten those paintings. Alex is many things, only sentimental isn't one of them.

Kate is delighted and full of admiration. "I can't believe you talked Mozzie into fixing the coffee machine."

"It's a gift," Neal says. He suspects Mozzie considers Kate a rather attractive woman, which in the world of Mozzie means it makes him uncomfortable to be in the same room as she is. He's not quite sure yet whether it would be a kindness to share this suspicion with Kate, or if she's better off not knowing.

"Mm. I guess this does mean I've got nothing to trade you for a pen."

"Then I guess this one's a freebie," Neal says, as he hands over another pen with a flourish.


End file.
